


Five Directions

by Portponky



Category: Jedward, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Dark Magic, France (Country), Future, M/M, Minor Character Death, Penis Size, Slash, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Portponky/pseuds/Portponky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Directions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ja_phoenix777](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ja_phoenix777/gifts).



It was a cold, windswept night at Für Elise, a county in the southern French countryside. The boys had gathered at the grave of Simon Cowell. Zayn poured a bottle of red rosés over the grave. “I can't believe it's been five years since he died,” said Liam. All of them sighed.

“Fuck, man,” said Niall, “this year, twenty fifteen, has been fucking rough as fuck.”

The phone rang. One Direction answered. “Hello There Friends It Is Jedward Here,” said Jedward.

“Hi,” said One Direction, pausing to lament for a second, “what can we do for you?”

“Well Jedward Just Wanted To Give Our Condolences On The Anniversary Of This Dark Day One Minute You're Simon Cowell The Next Minute You're Dead It Hurts Man LOL?” said Jedward.

One Direction cleared its throat. “Yeah, thanks man. Thanks. It's been hard. We have to go retire to our Chapeau in the Alpen. We'll catch up with you later.”

Jedward responded, “Thanks A Lot One Direction The Band”. The call ended abruptly, just like Simon Cowell's life at his fateful appointment at the Feng Shui practitioner.

Later on, every single member of One Direction was crashing and lounging at the Chapeau De Triumph. It was a crusty rustic old hammer of a manor house with rooms and corridors shooting out of every door. There were tapestries and goblets posted in every crevice. It was built in the fifteenth century during the French Revolution by royal peasants that escaped from the Pastille.

There was an air of nitrogen about the place. The grieving process had really pushed their emotional strength to the limit, which was unusual for boys with such deep hearts. They sat together and watched the High School Musical trilogy and Hannah Montana: The Movie.

Niall was the first to unzip his pants. “Fuckin' A, man,” he said, “time to push bone.” Niall was always the strong, confident one who was quite open with his body and sexuality. So much so, that he showers with the bathroom door wide open, even when they stay at the Vatican. He drew the others in to his illicit world, filled with pleasure and hedonism and ennui. Zayn ripped off his nemes and started to strip. Within moments nudity was abundant.

Harry honked up his goosepipe. “How about... we try... that?”

Everyone knew what the fuck he was talking about straight away. “You can't be serious,” said Louis, always a pillar of reason and responsibility. Three years ago, One Direction had found out, purely by accident, about a secret dark ritual allowing One Direction to have one wish granted. They hadn't used this power yet because they were saving it for a special occasion. They'd sextoyed with the idea of bringing Simon back, and tonight was the night they could really try it for real.

“I am so damn serious right now,” Harry passioned.

Liam glued in, “I agree with Harry. Why wait any more? Through the fire and the flames, we should do it tonight.”

One Direction were all in a tentative agreement that they would take the sticky plunge in to the voodoo world of the dark arts. After all, it couldn't be much worse than the music business. Zayn turned down the lights, put on “What Makes You Beautiful”, and lit some candles to improve the mood. They all stood in a circle facing each other, completely naked. Their bodies were pink and puffy like a quintet of brand new peaches. Not one of them had a penis under eighteen inches in length, which meant they had more than seven and a half feet of thick cock between them.

Louis started by handing his penis to Harry, who stood two places clockwise from him. Harry passed his penis to Liam, who was three places anticlockwise, standing to the right of Louis. Liam passed his cock to Zayn, who was standing between Harry and Louis. He remembered to pass his cock underneath Louis' shaft. Zayn placed his cock over Louis and then threaded it under Harry's to pass it over to Niall. Finally, Niall passed his periwinkler over Harry's and under the cock which was going under Louis' cock and passed it to the only remaining person who hadn't been given a sturdy throbbing rod.

They all looked down and they saw, as you can probably guess, a pentagram made of knobs. A pentaknob. Thanks to their extreme sexual prowess they all became rock hard and the configuration locked together. One Direction started squimbling and squirming and also passionately kissing. The temperature rose to 306 Kelvin. Their roddy members were all rubbing off each other like a differential. Each twinge sent a blast of pleasure bouncing between them and magnifying. It quickly reached simmering point.

In perfect lip sync, they all started to ejaculate, creaming precisely 180ccs of fresh semen in every direction. Satan appeared. “I have been summoned by the legendary pentachode,” he bemoaned, “and I will now grant you one wish, the chance to change anything you want. But choose wisely.”

This was usually when One Direction chickened out and sent Satan back to hell. But this time, Louis wasn't afraid.

“We want Eternity Boners,” he said.

Satan behemothed “So shall it be,” and vanished in a clowd of vegetarian red smoke.

Each member of One Direction suddenly had a member of sturdy, rock solid proportions. They were effortlessly erect. “This is fuckin' great,” said Niall, “but it'll make performing difficult.”

Harry was confused. “Surely this will make performing easier? It's hard to disappoint with shafts like these.”

“No, no, you fucking idiot,” said Niall, “I meant performing musically.”

They all had a great big chortle and retired to bed safe in the knowledge that if they ever went camping in the future, it wouldn't matter if they forgot the tent poles.


End file.
